Lesson One
by lolitaworkrequilem
Summary: Mabel returns to a desolate home and looses sense over what matters more. Her house, or her time left to live a luxurious lifestyle with a demon to tend to her every whim. Alex gets fatigued and shows her his other power. Alongside being incredibly strong and agile, he also has a skill for manipulating the feeble human mind of Mabel Macken.


'_Mabel Macken, descendent of Jim Macken. What have you summoned me for?'_

'_Isn't it obvious? Look at me. I've been living amongst the insane. I'm in hell.'_

'_What is your wish, then?'_

'_I merely wish death upon anyone involved in me being here.'_

'…_Very well.'_

I can remember it. The absolute darkness, the cacky web keeping me in paralysis to the spider's mercy.

As a student, I had read books of demonology … The idea fascinated me. My brother believed me to of had an obsession. He was quite right. Though I'd never of comprehended the thought for a minute that when I was to return home after a short break in Felixstowe with my colleague, awaiting me would be the doctor of London's finest and most successful asylum.

They took my books away, burned my clothes and fed me nothing but blessed bread to purify my body. I was phlebotomised, sterilised, electroshocked and submerged. They cut my hair to a shaggy but short length on the fifth day so I couldn't bite it or rip it out easily. I looked like a boy. But I knew what to do.

I avoided any involvement of this method for two months of being an inmate. It was a terrorising thought that such a thing was to happen to me; being captured by a contract between a demon and myself. But I wanted out of this scummy place that kept me weak and drove me to hell. The cell was crowded and overrun by vermin and animalistic humans. I was going to die in that place. _Wouldn't it be better to die in the comfort of my home at the hands of someone I trust?_

I had heard that every blood line has their demon. I had also gotten hold of my ancestory tree at the death of my cousin. Jim Macken, an ancestor going back three generations was told to of had a butler of many inhuman talents. His butler fitted the criteria of a demon perfectly. Thus my suspicions arose.

'_You're Claude, aren't you.'_

'_I was once given that name, yes.'_

'_You've been summoned by a Macken before.'_

'_Yes. You're of Jim's kin.'_

There was a new doctor on our ward after that night. He took the form of a younger man with pristine skin and a golden glow to his eyes. It was sickening, really. The way such a vile creature had the balls to appear so solemn and beautiful. Though his expression was every bit as deadly as what his actual intentions were. He wouldn't smile or react to anything a patient was to do. He wouldn't even shout in annoyance or groan in pain with the crazies kicks and slaps… The ward gained a doctor that night. And I gained my mark.

'_What is that…?' Annie touched my wet back. '_

_How long have you had that? I didn't know you had a tattoo…' She begins rubbing a patch of skin on my shoulder blade with her thumb furiously. It was getting sore, so I flinch away from her and grabbed my flesh to pull it towards my face as I bent my neck to see this tattoo. Sure enough there was a mustardy yellow stain to my skin that was shaped in a pendulum. _

"Are you ready to leave now, Mistress?" Questions the soft monotone voice of my doctor after he had closed the door to the treatment room. I nod once and he continues to stare at me. I sigh and look up at him. Jumpping down from the medical table to stand before him, I spoke. "Alex. Get me out of this place this instant." The stoic man watches me closely for some reason before crouching on to one knee to place a palm on his chest. "Yes, mistress."

My first order was uncomfortable. I never got my way as a child, and I was always coddled and told what to do. I hadn't a problem with that. It made me feel secure. But now I guess I felt alone in the sense that I was in charge. And he called me mistress. This was probably what made me the most uncomfortable. I'm not a pervert, but as an adolescent, my friends and I would make fun of pornography and trick each other by linking them to dirty websites. So the phrase "Yes, mistress," was very heavily connected to smut. It was kinky, and I wasn't in favour of that kind of business.

He must have been jumping and running and dodging bullets for a mere five minutes, carrying me out of the asylum. Even with his hands full, he moved as though he was carrying just an empty box. The human doctors wouldn't give up, so there were a lot of dead bodies.

A demon was under my control in exchange for my soul. I had just witnessed how powerful a demon actually is. And he would abide by our contract and preserve my life until my goal was complete. But I still didn't feel safe. I suppose I was right not to. This man is going to be the death of me, no matter what the given circumstances. I have every right to be fearful of him. And I was going to kill myself anyway. I entered the asylum sane and slowly lost my mind each day. I am dangerous to society. I think he knows this. I read that the insane souls are always the tastiest.

I'm scared. Of everyone. I don't want to die anymore. Now I see a future, now I'm outside the gates, now I can get revenge. Yet I'm so scared. What have I done? I've signed away my soul. I'm so stupid. I'm insane. _Yes, you are. _

Interrupting my thoughts? I snap out of my trance and frown at my demon who was still running along the rooftops with me clinging for dear life around his neck. "Get out of my mind!"

He seemed to act offended as he met my vision and bowed his head at me slightly. "Yes, mistress…"

I regret with every inch of me yelling like that. The way he looked at me. It maked my skin crawl.

Lost as of what to actually do – not that I could do much with him running with me—I tightened my grip at his neck and closed my eyes. If I couldn't see my fate, maybe I could calm myself.

It was like a hug. I was hugging death. I laugh once in my own thought. I might as well let hell consume me. If I keep over thinking things, I'll get a headache.

Drawing my head away from his collar bone, I grin up at him. He doesn't seem to care about my twisted humour. And my skin is still crawling with his glare that seems to be permanent. "I'm hugging death!" I chimed like I would have done with delight to see that the ice cream wasn't all gone. He simply sighed and placed his forehead against mine softly.

"You really are quite quaint, Mabel Macken"


End file.
